The Honour and the Glory
by Ziggy Sternenstaub
Summary: An old Nubian legend haunts Anakin Skywalker's childhood.


Disclaimer: Insert lame, insincere attempt at upholding legalities here.

I wrote this story about a year and a half ago and submitted it to a fanzine, "I Don't Care What You Smell #11." It was published last , for those of you familiar with the wait-one-year rule of fanzines, means that I'm just now able to share it with the rest of the world. I hope everyone enjoys this. It's a stand alone, and yes, I am still working on my long piece, as well as another story I'm almost ready to post.

Let me know what you think!

**The Honour and the Glory**

By Ziggy Sternenstaub

_And the end of all our exploring_

_Will be to arrive where we started_

_And know the place for the first time._

_--T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets_

With Obi-Wan gone to meet with the council, the bland chamber Anakin shared with his master seemed infinitely more bland, infinitely more boring. There wasn't so much as a single scrap of extraneous machinery to play with, or a half-way interesting holo to watch. Obi-Wan had taken out _"The Etiquette of Wookiee Culture"_ from the library last week, and while it had been interesting enough to attempt to decipher why one roar meant _"May your cubs find success and tasty meals for all the years of their lives"_ and another one meant _"I want to rip your arms off, but will refrain until we are in a less formal setting,"_ such pleasures had their limits.

Anakin kicked at the table leg for five minutes before boredom became an almost palpable force, and he felt that he must disobey Obi-Wan's order to remain in their domicile or simply keel over dead from lack of entertainment. Still the boy hesitated, nine years of intense obedience for fear of even more intense punishments having not yet been overcome by the past six months of more mild living. In the Jedi Temple, punishment meant several hours of meditation and a temporary banishment from consuming his favourite foods. Granted, that was bad enough, but nothing compared to the beatings that Watto had given him from time to time, apparently acting under some unbearable provocation from Anakin, though Anakin himself was hard pressed to remember what that might have been. He accredited it to the absurdities of adults, who usually considered themselves more intelligent than children, but were for the most part simply more confused.

Ten minutes more passed sitting at Obi-Wan's table, and kicking the table-leg slowly but inevitably lost its remaining charm. Anakin sighed and wished desperately that there was a window, but after the first five months of perching in abject fascination at the window, watching the endless lights and zooming speeders that made up Coruscant's city-scape, Obi-Wan had claimed that the novelty of this new planet should have passed and that the sights were distracting Anakin fom his studies. The crusty (in Anakin's opinion) young Knight had requested a room change from the Council. Their new room was larger than their old one, but Anakin missed his window. Coruscant was unlike anything he had ever imagined or even dreamed of, and there were very few opportunities to actually go outside. Obi-Wan had told him that they would venture out into the city once Anakin had a basic grasp on the Force and some physical training, enough to be able to protect himself.

Anakin tapped the holonet centre, hoping to watch something that wasn't a library tape, but a request for Obi-Wan's password immediately sounded into the empty room. Anakin groaned and stood up. Surely just a little walk outside of their room wouldn't hurt? Just a little step outside? Obi-Wan hadn't even left him with anything to study (except for the Wookiees, but they didn't count) and he'd be back inside before Obi-Wan's stupid meeting was over. He'd never even know about it.

Brief pangs of conscience assaulted him, but Anakin dismissed them easily. It was just a walk. He put on his shoes and moved over the door, wondering belatedly if Obi-Wan might not have locked it. The door opened easily, though, and Anakin stepped outside to breathe in the sweet smell of freedom. There was not a single being in the long corridor and Anakin grinned with delight. This could be fun. Speed picked up under his feet, and soon he was running on the smooth surface, dipping down to turn somersaults, and then jumping back up again. Stealth was forgotten, and Anakin let out whoops of delight. The corridor echoed with his joy.

Anakin threw himself back down to the ground in a double somersault, and unexpectedly hit resistance.

"Oh!" he yelled, rubbing at his head and thinking that the wall hadn't been anywhere close to him. So what was…

His gaze traveled up a pair of stately robes, green embroidered with silver runes. Definitely not Jedi. A face finally appeared, framed in red hair and smiling down at him with amusement.

"Why, hallo there, young Skywalker," the man said pleasantly.

"Hi, sir," Anakin said quickly, clambering to his feet and blushing slightly at his faux pas. "I was just—"

"You were just having fun, as any young boy should. You have nothing to apologise to me for," Chancellor Palpatine said firmly. "Though I am surprised to see you without your master. Where is young Master Kenobi?"

"He's at a meeting…Um, you won't tell him I was outside, will you? I wasn't exactly supposed to, and…" Anakin trailed off. Back on Tatooine, he would have offered an uncertain witness to a crime some candy or something to keep his mouth shut, but he had a feeling that this wasn't really proper procedure with the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

"You have nothing to fear from me," the middle-aged man promised, and the glint of amusement in his eyes was now even brighter. "In fact, I was just on my way to speak with the Council, so I had better be off. However, I wanted to ask you, Anakin, if you would like to visit me some time? I am extremely grateful for the help you gave to my planet and people, and I would like to reward you for your deeds. Perhaps an afternoon outside of the temple once in a while in the company of an old man isn't much, but if you're ever feeling restless here, you are certainly welcome to call me for a reprieve."

"Really?" Anakin asked with wide eyes. "You want _me _to spend time with _you_?"

Perhaps it would not have occurred to a boy raised in better circumstances what a privilege the politician's offer was, but to Anakin the advantage in the Chancellor's attentions was clear. A slave knew power on sight, had an extra sense that avoided it or sought it out depending upon his needs, and this man had power. Being in his presence, having his attention, could certainly have its benefits.

"I would like very much to spend time with you, my boy," the politician promised gravely.

"Sure! Can you talk to Obi-Wan about it, though? Because any time I try to ask him for anything that isn't a lesson on history or etiquette or something he always tells me I need to develop more patience and sends me to meditate."

"Patience is certainly a virtue worth having, but I will ask him. In fact, I will ask him now, if you don't mind, seeing as I'm headed that way."

"Sure, I don't mind," Anakin allowed magnanimously.

The little smile on the edge of Palpatine's lips deepened. "Until next time, Anakin."

"Bye!" Anakin hollared down the corridor, and then flinched at his own volume. With Palpatine gone, the dangers of disobedience loomed large once more, and the boy ran back to the chamber he shared with his master. It was not until he was inside that he wondered just why the Chancellor had been in his obscure hallway to begin with. The Council Chambers—and the entrance to the Temple-- were on the other side of the temple entirely.

**

Two months passed with nary a mention from Obi-Wan on the subject of the Chancellor's request, and Anakin was starting to wonder if the older man had actually asked, until one afternoon very similar in tone and boredom to the one that had prompted the fateful meeting. Anakin was glued to the holoscreen, studying the migration patterns of nerf on Alderaan while stiffling yawns. Obi-Wan was reading a file and making notes when his com-link buzzed. Anakin sneaked a peak at Obi-Wan and saw his eyebrows go up at the identity of his caller.

"I'm just going into the bedroom a moment, Anakin. Keep studying."

"Sure," Anakin chirped.

Briefly, he considered eavesdropping, but decided against it. Obi-Wan would know.

Five minutes later and Obi-Wan emerged once more, looking vagely troubled.

"Anakin, I need to make a visit this afternoon, and I've decided—"

"Came I come with you?" Anakin asked eagerly.

"No, you can't, but—"

"But, Obi-Wan, I never get to go _anywhere. _I'm dying in here!"

"As I was about to say," Obi-Wan continued firmly, "I have decided to bring you to the Chancellor's office. He mentioned some time ago that he was interesting in meeting you and would be pleased if I were to bring you to him, so he'll have his chance now."

"Oh, okay," Anakin said. "That sounds good, too."

Obi-Wan did not question his apprentice' sudden compliance but merely told Anakin to put on his cloak and shoes. Anakin waited for his master by the door, and it wasn't long before they approached the monolithic doors to the temple. Fresh air wafted in, and Anakin breathed deeply, pleased even with the pollution and fumes. The air was bright and almost shimmered with the reflective heat of the orbital mirrors responsible for Coruscant's artificial summer. Anakin craned his neck to see all of the speeders passing by, imagining himself in all of the really fast ones and considering what he might do to make them go even faster. He'd paint them bright red, or draw all kinds of pictures on them, runes from the tuskan raiders or the old Hutt stories full of bloody family feuds and undercover hitmen! He'd write his name all over the best speeder in Huttese and out-race every last _sleemo_ on Coruscant!

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said testily. "Keep your mind on the present and your eyes in front of you. We have a transport waiting for us."

"Yes, master."

The ride to the Senate was very short, and Anakin didn't have a great deal of time to question the pilot, but the man still breathed a sigh of relief when when the Padawan left the transport.

**

The Senate was a whirlwind of people that seemed to talk all of the time, and Anakin was overwhelmed by the contrast to the silent, solemn halls of the temple. Sometimes the quiet bored him, but he was surprised how much he was already expecting that sort of clear, untroubled environment. His newly sharpened Force perceptions were assaulted by the hostility of the Senate, the conflicting emotional demands of the politicians who swarmed in his perceptions.

"Do not concentrate too heavily on the feelings of politicians, Anakin," Obi-Wan instructed softly without looking down at his apprentice. "They are contradictory and deceptive: not to be trusted."

Security were everywhere, but they allowed the Jedi to pass without hindrance. It was only at the entrance to the Supreme Chancellor's office that the stern-looking men in solemn uniforms halted them and asked Obi-Wan for identification, which he provided for both of them. Anakin stood up straight and tried to catch a glimpse of his own I.D., which he remembered posing for several days after Obi-Wan had taken him as his Padawan learner.

"All right, you're clear," the guard of the left said after several tense moments. "The Chancellor is expecting you."

The doors opened and Anakin hurried in before his master, eager to see what such an important place looked like. The ceilings were close and the rooms was covered in deep burgundy paint. Strange works of art covered the side-boards and Anakin was immediately struck by a sense of comfort. He felt that he could remain in this place indefinitely. The man in rising from his desk in front of him added to this impression with his warm, welcoming smile.

"Ah, Anakin, there you are," he said, as though they'd parted only moments earlier. "And young Master Kenobi! How happy I am that you took me up on my offer to entertain our young friend for an afternoon."

Obi-Wan smiled perfunctorily. "You may not be so pleased after this afternoon. Anakin can be a handful."

Anakin stiffened at this insult to his character, though he could not help admitting to himself that it was true. Still, to say that to the Chancellor! Anakin didn't want the man to change his mind.

"Oh, I'm confidant that we will get on quite well, and I'm sure there will be no problems," Palpatine assured the Jedi knight.

"I'll be back later on in the evening, Anakin," the Jedi said. "Be ready at 20:00."

"Yes, Master."

"So, we meet again, Anakin," Palpatine said once the doors had closed behind Obi-Wan. "Why don't you take a seat? I have some things I would like to show you."

Anakin jumped up on the chair that Palpatine indicated in front of his desk and leaned over the large, dark surface, eager to see something new.

Palpatine activated a large screen and began showing the boy the speed-lanes on Coruscant, the ships that were in orbit around the planet, and the lifts that went down to the bowels of the planet. He pointed out the different speed-limits and the classes of vehicles that were allowed in certain areas. Anakin watched, spell-bound, and asked dozens of questions to which Palpatine provided prompt answers. When the subject was finally exhausted, Anakin jumped out of his seat and began walking around the room, asking questions about the art against the walls.

"My collection," the Chancellor said with deep satisfaction. "Only the finest pieces from all over the galaxy. I have others, but these are the pieces that truly captured my attention. I wouldn't do without them near me."

"What's this one?" Anakin asked, pointing to a golden spiral that turned in on itself and caught the light with the starry gems on the inner helix.

"An early Mon Calamari concept of the universe. They believed it to be an endless tunnel which moved in only one direction, never meeting itself again. A very linear view, but one which allows for more freedom of thought, I think. It eliminates the possibility of history repeating itself in a circular fashion."

Anakin glanced between the art and the Chancellor, struck by the fact that the man was speaking to him in a direct fashion that respected his intelligence. He wasn't using little words just because Anakin was a kid.

"And this one?" he asked, pointing to a simple silver circlet with a green gem embedded in it.

"The crown of an ancient Prince of the Outer Rim Territories. He is said to have been the first to unite several systems into an Empire."

"Wow," Anakin said, looking at the circlet with new respect. "And what about…this one?"

It was a black sword, fully forged metal. It looked nothing like a lightsabre, and was very heavy looking. The hilt was carved with strange symbols that Anakin did not recognise.

"Ah…now that, my young friend, is something very special. I grew up with stories about those swords, and the men that wielded them. They are ancient legends of the Nubian system."

A child of Tatooine in life if not in blood, Anakin's imagination had been nurtured by strange old crones dried out in the heat of the desert, their every wrinkle filled with sand while their croaking voices spat out stories of magic and mystery under the cold desert stars. It was for this reason that Anakin immediately recognised storytime.

"Tell me about them, sir!" he asked eagerly.

Palpatine nodded solemnly. He, too, knew the rituals of story telling, and offered Anakin a cup of something steaming to drink before leading him into an adjoining sitting room. Anakin curled up on the red sofa and relaxed into the cushions. Palpatine sat across from him with the black sword solemnly lying across his thighs. The sparse lines in the Chancellor's face deepened with the mystery of the moment. The man took a sip from his own cup and began to tell the tale.

"Many thousands of years ago the provinces of Naboo were a series of fiefdoms ruled by warring lords who battled one another for resources, land, and subjects. Violence and unrest were everywhere, and no one was truly safe. One summer, the lord of the province Yveet invaded the province Hujee. Hujee had many flocks of lifestock, and Yveet was in the midst of a famine. The Yveeti soldiers were wild in their hunger. They slaughtered the Hujeeans mercilessly to take their animals. One such massacre destroyed an entire extended family of farmers, and the Yveeti feasted that night on their flocks, dancing on the bodies of their victims, mad with victory. What they did not know was that a small girl had survived, hidden in the forest. She witnessed the slaughter and, weeping bitterly for her family, she swore vengeance."

Anakin held his breath, his drink forgotten in his hands. Vivid images of battle and loss filled his head. "Did she get her revenge, sir?" he asked. Anakin understood revenge. He'd seen it enacted many times on petty criminals who refused to pay their gambling debts. Their bodies were mutilated and hung out to dry in the desert. Usually, the sands stripped the flesh from their bones within days.

"She did indeed, Anakin, but it was many, many years before it happened. Hujee recovered from the attacks, but remained a poor province of the Yveeti. The girl, whose name was Uglorio, was a homeless orphan who wandered the forests and valleys searching for her next meal—at times in vain. Eventually, she was taken in by a band of desperate thieves, all of whom had known tragedies very similar to Uglorio's own. The difference was that they lacked ambition, the drive to change their destines. _That _Uglorio had, and in time she rose to become the leader of that band. Under her ruthless and brilliant direction, the thieves never missed another meal, and their wealth began to grow. Uglorio's thieves soon annexed other such bands, and the girl's followers grew to the size of a small army. It was not long before she realised her own power, and wondered why she should roam from town to town with a price on her head when she could drive out the Yveeti transgressors who had killed her family and at last bring peace to her violated land?"

Palpatine paused for an almost painfully long time, allowing Anakin to contemplate this question. The boy took the opportunity to sip at his drink and think. The little girl's idea—although he supposed she hadn't been a little girl anymore then—was a sound one. If someone had come into his home and killed his family, he would have attacked them too. He doubted he would have had the patience to wait so many years, as Uglorio had, but then girls were different like that.

"Her followers were easily convinced in the face of their own overwhelming numbers, and Uglorio devised such glorious strategies that they defeated the Yveeti within mere weeks, driving out the men who had grown fat and complacent during easy years spent feasting on another people's wealth. Sadly, she did not find the men who had killed her family, and would not for many years after that, but her triumphs did not stop at banishing the Yveeti from her own province. She conquered the enemy lands and installed her own soldiers in their towns that they might never again harm another innocent family. She freed the neighbouring province of Aert as well, and set her soldiers to guard it against future invasions. Her name became famous, praised by those she had aided and feared by her enemies, who cowered at its mention. The soldiers of her army were loyal to her unto death, and while many others joined their ranks in time, the men of that original band that had taken her in as a small girl laid aside their thieving ways at last and swore oaths of devotion to her, to guard and serve her, to obey her every command and uphold her honour in all things. She accepted this oath with great joy and promised her own devotion to them in turn: to preserve her honour that theirs would never be tarnished. As gifts to them for their loyalty, she gave every last man a suit of shining black armour and a magnificent sword with the oath they had mutually sworn—they to her, and she to them-- engraved on the hilts."

"What did it say?" Anakin asked eagerly.

Palpatine smiled at the boy's huge, bright blue eyes. He picked up the sword and let the lamplight catch the ancient, archaic runes in the hilt.

"Only in your honour do we seek glory, only in glory do you uphold our honour. For the honour and the glory."

"_Wizard," _Anakin breathed, captivated by the fairy-tale images that blossomed in his imagination, by the swiftly moving warriors who defended something so marvellous that it was almost beyond his child's comprehension. He only knew that he loved how those words made him feel, how they made him long to fight for those grand ideas, so different from anything he'd ever known. Even the Jedi were different than that. They knew nothing of the passion implied in those grand phrases, and indeed would had eschewed the enchantment that had so quickly overtaken their newest Padawan learner.

Palpatine smiled at the boy's captivated state and invited his young companion to take a closer look at the sword. This Anakin did with a caution bordering on reverence.

"Why were the swords and armour black, though, Chancellor, sir? It seems like a funny colour."

"Why is that, Anakin?" Palpatine asked curiously.

Anakin shrugged. "In most of the stories, only evil people wear black."

The Chancellor nodded in solemn comprehension. "You will quickly discover, Anakin, that very few things in real life are quite like they are in the stories."

Anakin frowned, not entirely satisfied with this answer. Of course he _knew_ that things were different in real life, but it still struck him as odd that the knights hadn't chosen another colour for themselves, instead of one that people would associate with evil stories. He told the Chancellor this.

"Perhaps that is precisely why Uglorio chose that colour for her warriors to wear, that they might challenge the people into thinking in different ways about what good and evil really meant. After all, those same warriors were once thieves, and yet in time they freed millions from tyranny."

Palpatine offered Anakin a snack then, allowing the boy time to absorb this idea. It was then that the Chancellor's com-station beeped, calling the politician off to talk to one of the many beings who had been demanding his attention since he had been appointed to the Chancellorship. As busy as being a Senator had been, it was a leisurely holiday compared to the business of running the galaxy. Being Emperor was certain to be an even more time-consuming job but, Palpatine expected, one considerably less dependent on tact and diplomacy.

As he talked, he watched the boy devouring a juyucka as though he hadn't eaten for weeks. The Jedi wouldn't neglect a child's nutritional needs, but Palpatine expected that the boy was rarely given anything that any self-respecting nine year old human actually _wanted_ to eat.

His call finished, Palpatine joined the boy again. "You seem to be enjoying that, Anakin. Was there anything else you wanted?"

Anakin hesitated. "Um…a ruby bliel?"

Palpatine's eyebrows rose. "I'm afraid I don't recognise that. Perhaps it has another name here."

"Oh, it's easy to make. I could show you if you have some ingredients and stuff around."

Deciding to be indulgent with the boy's whim, Palpatine summoned his protocol droid into the room. "Tell FG-I4 what you need and she will bring it."

"I am at your service, young Jedi," a warm contralto emerged from the droid's motionless mouthpiece.

Anakin grinned and began to reel off a dizzying list of ingredients, certainly more than could possibly go into one simple drink. Palpatine quietly allowed the indiscretion, entirely amused with the boy's audacity.

At 20:00, true to his word, Obi-Wan Kenobi returned, only to find both Chancellor and Padawan covered with red dyes and bright orange juices. Anakin had a rim of scarlet stickiness around his little mouth, and even Palpatine had a suspicious hint of a bliel-mustache on his upper lip. The Jedi Knight bowed respectfully, but could not quite conceal his vexation, which showed in the tightened corners of his eyes. Palpatine smiled pleasantly at the Jedi, displaying just the right amount of kindliness and authority.

"Ah, Master Kenobi! You came just in time to try young master Anakin's newest invention: the purple bliel."

Indeed, Anakin grinned ecstatically at Obi-Wan before dumping half a cup of blue juice into the ruby drink in front of him. It turned the entire concoction a rather violent shade of purple.

"_Wow!_" Anakin said with no small amount of awe. He picked up the drink and sipped at it. "It's tastes great, too. Want some, Chancellor?" he offered, holding the large glass up at Palpatine.

"If I may," the politician accepted gracefully. He sipped at the drink, his eyebrows going up in surprise. It really was very good. Thick and rich but not overly sweet, a surprisingly sophisticated concoction."Excellent, Anakin. I think you've discovered my new favourite beverage."

"Really?! I can make more of them, you know. Everytime I come and visit you, I can make you one!"

Palpatine smiled at the boy's presumption of a next time. "A wonderful idea, Anakin. Master Kenobi, would you care to taste?'

He held out the drink to the Jedi, who could not conceal a grimace. "No, thank you. I'm not quite as brave as you are, Chancellor. Anakin, go and get cleaned up. We must return to the Temple now."

"Aww, not already, Obi-Wan," the boy protested.

"Yes, already," Obi-Wan repeated sternly. "And that's _Master_ Obi-Wan to you."

Anakin rolled his eyes, but ran off to wash his hands.

"I hope he didn't give you any trouble, sir," Obi-Wan stated into the sudden silence. He wondered that he already missed Anakin in those few seconds, had in fact missed the boy all afternoon. The kid could be overwhelming and tiring, but there was something engaging about him that captivated people all too easily.

"None at all, Jedi Kenobi," Palpatine assured him. "I had a most enjoyable afternoon, a welcome recess from my duties. Feel free to bring Anakin to me when you have need of a free afternoon. I ask only that you alert me several days in advance. Putting off my appointments this afternoon was very difficult on such short notice."

"Of course, sir."

Anakin returned then, scrubbed and bouncing with excitement—and no doubt from the sweets drinks he had spent the afternoon making and consuming. Obi-Wan inwardly groaned at the thought of enforcing Anakin's bed-time.

"'Bye, Chancellor, sir. You can have the rest of the drinks. And thanks for telling me that story!" the boy bellowed over his shoulder on the way out.

"Until next time, young Skywalker," the Chancellor said quietly, smiling gently as Jedi master and apprentice departed. Just as the doors were sliding shut, he heard Anakin talking to Obi-Wan.

"The Chancellor told me a story today. It was _so _wizard…"

**

That was not the first time that Obi-Wan was to heard the story of the young Nubian girl who had lead an army against the invaders of her province. Two months passed before the tale began to fade from Anakin's enthusiastic memory, and Obi-Wan was allowed to breathe a sigh of relief. Anakin's training was progressing at an amazing rate, his natural aptitude with the Force like nothing that the young, newly knighted human had ever witnessed. He was not so much jealous as caught in a state of perpetual shock. Slowly, Qui-Gon's assertion that Anakin was the Chosen One of prophesy began to make more sense. His respect for his master increased, and he was troubled that he had doubted the man he had admired so deeply. Death had not completely erased his reservations with Qui-Gon's often contested methods, but Obi-Wan was willing to be more open minded. He was certain his master would have been proud of him, as well as of the young boy the old master had put so much faith in.

Like all children, Anakin was fascinated with the lightsabre and often pestered Obi-Wan, asking when he would be able to build his own weapon. When told that it would probably be two years before he had the fine motor control to handle a real lightsabre without damaging himself and his allies, Anakin's face fell. Worried that the fantastically talented boy would attempt to build a lightsabre on his own, Obi-Wan gave Anakin a low-powered yellow training lightsabre and began to teach him simple moves.

"Master, do the lightsabre colours mean anything?" Anakin asked one day while they recovered from a particularly intense training session.

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "Colour is for the most part a matter of person preference, Anakin. Most knights use the more common blue and green crystals, but on occasion a Padawan will find other hues in the crystal caves. It's usually a matter of chance. Master Windu is the only living knight I can think of who has a truly unusual lightsabre."

"What colour is his?" Anakin asked dutifully, through the slightly resentful expression of dislike that had taken over his face at the mention of Windu's name.

"Mind your feelings, Anakin," Obi-Wan cautioned. When the boy nodded and cleared his mind using the proper cleansing techniques, the young knight continued. "Master Windu's lightsabre is purple."

"Really?" Anakin asked, and giggled.

"Care to share the cause of your humour with the rest of us?" Obi-Wan asked drying, sweeping his right arm through the grand expanse of the otherwise empty training gym.

"Nothing," Anakin shrugged, "I just can't picture Master Windu and purple. It seems too cheerful for him. He's always so serious."

"He is a man with many responsibilities," Obi-Wan lectured, though inwardly he agreed. He too wondered what had prompted the great Master to make such an unusual personal statement.

"What about the training sabres, master? They're all yellow."

"They're made from damaged, colourless fragments from the caves that don't focus the necessary energies as well as the whole, coloured crystals."

Anakin nodded thoughtfully. "What about the red ones?"

Obi-Wan frowned down at his apprentice. "What _about_ the red ones?"

"That thing that fought Master Qui-Gon had a red one."

"Red is the colour of the Sith," Obi-Wan said, more sharply than he'd intended. "No Jedi would ever carry a red sabre."

"Aren't we allowed?" Anakin asked bluntly.

Frustration and annoyance churned inside of Obi-Wan's chest. "It is not forbidden; it is simply assumed that no Jedi would ever wish to. Red is the colour of anger, passion, of murder and lust, of everything that a Jedi eschews. I hope," he added sternly, "that you weren't considering building a red lightsabre."

"Of course not, Master," Anakin parroted back at him, his blue eyes wide. "Just one more question?"

"Just one more," Obi-Wan sighed.

"Can we make black lightsabres?"

"No, we can't," Obi-Wan said curtly.

"But—"

"No more questions for today, Anakin."

The training continued. It was not until a month later that Obi-Wan again had business where the presence of a child would be inopportune. He remembered the Chancellor's offer, and having been alerted sometime in advance, made contact with the Chancellery office. Of course, he could have left Anakin alone in their quarters or even given him to Master Yoda's class for the day, but Obi-Wan considered that a day outside of the Temple would be a well-earned treat for the boy. Furthermore…Obi-Wan was aware of the buried hostilities in the Temple, just below the surface and directed at his young charge. They were hostilities contrary to the Jedi way, but denying them would not make them any less real. Friends in high places could only help a boy in Anakin's tenuous position. Obi-Wan was a practical enough man to acknowledge these truths, even if he didn't like them.

The Chancellor received the boy with a joy typical of childless bachelors who had always had too little time for children of their own and who, unexposed to children on a regular basis, still maintained illusions that their presence was somehow uplifting. Obi-Wan was amused by his own cynical analysis, but considered that if the man had enough honest naiveté to have even one idealistic illusion left to him, then perhaps the galaxy was indeed in good hands.

Anakin bounced into Palpatine's office with a disproportionate amount of happiness for a nine year old boy visiting a fifty one year old politician, and Obi-Wan left them to whatever mess and stories the afternoon would spawn.

"Can you tell me more about the warriors on Naboo, sir?" Anakin asked almost as soon as the doors closed behind his master.

The Chancellor's eyebrows rose in quiet surprise. "You still remember that, you do?"

"Sure! I asked Obi-Wan if he knew any more of the story, but he said he grew up on Coruscant and that his ancestors were from Chandrilla, so he knew some legends from there because he'd looked them up, but nothing about the Naboo. I asked if I could contact Padme—Queen Amidala, I mean—but he said I wasn't allowed to."

Palpatine nodded slowly. "Yes. The Jedi discourage outside contact."

Anakin appeared despondent, his round face falling and his blue eyes losing their excited light. "I know. They won't let me call my mom. I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to. I don't know if I would have come here if I knew that before. I think I wouldn't have."

"That is why they did not tell you," the Chancellor said gravely.

Anakin shrugged, his conflict clear in his uncomfortable body language as well as the Force.

"Sit down, my boy. I will tell you more of the story, if that is what you wish to hear."

"Yes, sir," Anakin said seriously, only wishing to forget the mention of his mother and the isolation that was consuming him, so far from home, family and friends.

Once more, something hot and sweet to drink was placed in Anakin's little hands and the Chancellor leaned back contemplatively in his office chair. Anakin felt suddenly small sitting in front of the large desk, and wished that they had moved to the sitting room as they had the last time.

"Uglorio was the ruler of the provinces for Yveet, Hujee, Aert for five years, content with her lot as a great and fair ruler of the people with many devoted followers, served by magnificent warriors, before her station in life again changed. Seeing that the provinces under her dominion were fruitful far beyond those lands that she did not rule, she decided to rectify that discrepancy. Mobilising her warriors, she swept without warning into the capitals of every province of Naboo's four continents, determined to overcome the petty dictators and weak, corrupt elected officials who stood between Naboo and the greatness Uglorio was determined to shape for her world. Technology was then far simpler than it now is, and the wars lasted many years, fought on many fronts, but in the end she triumphed. Her black-clad knights were her greatest aid in those campaigns, leading the armies and personally destroying the Uglorio's numerous enemies. What is now the capital city of Naboo was then a filthy backwater village whose name has now been lost to us. It was located on Maane, the last capital to fall to Uglorio's mighty sword. What is now Theed was the first place Uglorio rested the day on the war ended, and she declared that the place that had given her rest would now forever be the place she remained. The bank mighty waters of the river Solleu was the perfect location to built a defensible capital city, and over the following decades the gorgeous structures of Theed rose into view. But it was in a muddy, burned out husk of a hut that Uglorio was proclaimed the first Queen of Naboo, and her crown was not of precious metals and shining jewels, but the red blood of her enemies that dried and caked in her pale brown hair."

Anakin was unexpectedly solemn, and his eyes were not wide with the delight of small boys hearing gruesome but exciting tales. "A lot of people must have died in those wars."

"They always do," the Chancellor said. "To be a leader is a great and terrible responsibility, and no more so than in times of war."

Anakin did not know what to think of this. He knew what it was like to be insignificant, an expendable grub under the heels of the great and powerful. He wondered what had happened to the people that had lived in that village before it was Theed. Had anyone survived? His eyes were drawn to the black sword lying on its display, and thought of those knights who had sworn their loyalties to the Queen, who had promised only to be faithful to her for as long as she was a good leader, fair and honourable. They had fought for her in the war, like Qui-Gon had fought for Padme during the Trade Federation invasions. Surely they wouldn't have done it if that wasn't a war worth fighting?

He saw his mother's eyes in front of him, sad and weary and loving and meaning nothing to the powerful but, oh, they had meant everything to him, _been_ everything to him—his entire world! He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking back the tears that fought to break free.

"Anakin."

He looked up and saw pale blue eyes in front of him, looking out from a wise face, weathered in ways very different to his mother's.

"You do not have to hide here. I will not chastise you for anything you feel."

There was a warm hand on his shoulder, offering comfort and asking nothing in return, and Anakin resisted only one moment before letting the tears free at last, sobbing and choking until his throat ached with all of the buried pain of his nine year old heart. He felt soft velvet envelope him tightly, comforting him in ways that Obi-Wan could never understand. When the tears finally stopped, the boy remained were he was, because it was wonderful and perfect and absolutely right.

**

After that, Anakin came to visit the Chancellor many times. Equipped with a private comm code, he was able to contact the Chancellor any time he needed to talk or get away from the stifling pressure in the Temple. At the same time, he grew closer to Obi-Wan, who was slowly breaking free from the shell of awkwardness and grief that had bound him. Obi-Wan was young and could be fun when he forgot to act twice his actual age, but it was with the Chancellor that Anakin felt free to be himself. Just as Palpatine had promised, he was allowed to express his longings and frustrations without fear of castigation.

The Chancellor remained fond of story telling, and his well-trained, powerful speaking voice was excellent in conveying the emotional nuances of the legends and histories he told. Anakin loved to sit with him and simply listen, to allow that trusted voice to sweep him away into different times and places where his own cares and troubles could not follow him. The stories were all very different, and in time Anakin all but forgot those tales of the first Queen of Naboo and her faithful warriors, save for an inexplicable--to Obi-Wan, at least—fascination with the colour black.

When Anakin was fourteen, he killed a man for the first time. He knew technically that there had been living beings in the space station that he had destroyed as a child over Naboo, but having never seen them, they had never seemed real. The man was real. Anakin had been going on full length missions with Obi-Wan for two years by that point, working with a real lightsabre, but had never had to use it for anything beyond intimidation. It was on Xuusopa that that changed. Obi-Wan and Anakin had invaded a tight-knit smuggling ring which had been usurping Republic supply lines. They had been ordered to merely arrest the offenders and ensure the discontinuation of the operation, but the smugglers had other ideas. Before Anakin had quite known what was happening, he was in the midst of a pitched battle.

As he'd been trained, he fought defensively, sending blaster bolts back to the weapons that had fired them, melting the offending blasters. The tactic worked marvellously until one man broke through his defences, rushing at the Padawan with murderous intent. The man's face was inflamed with all of the forbidden anger and hate and greed and fear that Anakin was not permitted to contemplate, much less feel—but did. He felt it then, an outraged terror that moved his arms into action before he consciously knew it. First he sliced away the vibroblade that threated him and then, in one vicious backstroke, he decapitated his opponent.

The fury left him instantly, and he stood in shock over the body. The eyes were wide and stunned. Anakin felt nausea sweep over him, and when the dead man's eyelids gave a final blink, possessed by some last, treacherous, nervous twitch, Anakin threw up. Obi-Wan hurriedly sent him calming vibrations through the Force and defended them both for as long it took Anakin to regain some of his composure. Twenty seconds after his victim had fallen to the dusty warehouse floor, Anakin was back in the fray, his lightsabre moving mechanically. No one else died that day, and the smugglers were arrested by the local government after the Jedi had done all of the work.

Anakin was listless and cool during the trip home. Obi-Wan insisted that his apprentice release his emotions into the Force through meditation. Anakin obeyed his teacher's command, but the hollow emptiness refused to be released. It ached inside of his chest. He tried to tell himself that he'd seen plenty of dead people before, but the ache only grew. Obi-Wan tried to talk to him about what had happened, but Anakin couldn't bring himself to speak. He felt Obi-Wan squeeze his shoulder reassuringly and swallowed over the aching lump in his throat.

The day they landed on Coruscant, there was a transport from the Chancellor waiting for him.

"I think you should speak with Master Yoda before you go gallivanting off anywhere, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him firmly.

"I don't want to speak with Master Yoda," Anakin said stiffly, an edge of sulkiness in his voice. "I really doubt he remembers two thousand years ago when he had to do that for the first time. He was probably already a walking Jedi Code then too, anyway. He'd tell me that I should feel the same way about killing that guy that I do about eating my breakfast."

The line in Obi-Wan's forehead deepened. "Have respect, Anakin. I doubt very much that Master Yoda would tell you any of those things, and furthermore he is not two thousand years old. He's an experienced teacher who has always given _me_ excellent advice when I needed it—particularly during the past few years of your training."

"Yeah, he was probably the one that told you I need to meditate ten hours a day," Anakin muttered resentfully.

"You're being unreasonable and deliberately irrational, Padawan."

"So? Do I have to be reasonable all of the time? What if I'm not feeling very reasonably right now?" the boy challenged his teacher.

"It is your duty to be reasonable," Obi-Wan responded placidly.

"Can I just go? Look, if you let me go see the Chancellor, I promise I'll go see Master Yoda later."

Obi-Wan considered for a moment. In his present state, Anakin was only likely to agitate Yoda, which would prompt a lecture and in turn more resentment and anger on Anakin's part. It would help no one. Obi-Wan frowned at his apprentice thoughtfully, wishing he could have done more for the boy on the journey back to Coruscant. He wondered what Qui-Gon would have done with the volatile teenager. The first time Obi-Wan had been faced with a death on his own hands, he had taken it with a calm that Anakin appeared incapable of. Mediation and a talk with his master had been all he had needed to know that he had had no choice.

"Very well, Anakin, you may go. As long as you report in to Master Yoda the moment you return to the Temple."

Anakin nodded coolly and left their chambers without a further word. He didn't wonder how Palpatine had known that he needed to talk to him. The Chancellor had always seemed strangely attuned to Anakin's emotions, to the needs that he barely wished to admit to himself. The ride there flashed by in a blur of lights and colours and strange smells swept on the wind, and Palpatine was waiting for him at his private docking bay. The Chancellor said nothing, but offered a deep glance full of understanding. Anakin swallowed over an emotion that he couldn't quite identify. It was something that was neither grief nor anger nor sadness, but something composed of all three and a terrible quality that he could not name.

"It is not for the man that you killed that you grief, Anakin," the Chancellor said when they were ensconed in the comforting closeness of Palpatine's monochromatic sitting room. "He fully deserved the death you dealt him. It is for yourself that you grieve—for what you lost when you took his life. Innocence can never be reclaimed—and the soul recognises the loss even when the mind refuses to acknowledge it."

Anakin snorted disbelievingly. "With respect, Chancellor, I don't remember ever having been innocent. You can't grow up a slave in Mos Espa and be innocent."

The Chancellor smiled. "There are degrees of innocence, my young friend, and to kill a man means to lose much of that quality. It is inevitable. The fact is that you did not know what you had to lose lose until it was already gone. Such is often the way."

"I don't care. I don't care about innocence or killing or that guy or—or anything! I just want to feel like myself again, and not like there are worms crawling all over me and I haven't eaten anything in three weeks! I just want it to go away!" Anakin's voice rose up to a shout, and his voice cracked with a fury he'd never previously known. He jumped out of his seat and began pacing, his dark cloak sweeping behind him, caught up in the motions of his violent confusion.

"Do not fear your emotions, young Skywalker. Embrace them," Palpatine coaxed.

"I can't," Anakin groaned, his head hanging. Shadows fell around his face and hid the intensity of his eyes from view.

"You _can._ It is only by embracing your pain and making it a part of yourself that you will ever have power over it."

"Obi-Wan would tell me just the opposite. He says I have to let everything go."

"Certainly you must let it go," Palpatine said. "But first you must know it, understand it, conquer it , or _it_ will rule _you_. Feel…"

Anakin threw his head back and let the Chancellor speak. He no longer heard the words that emerged from the man's mouth, but felt instead the substance of his tone wash over him, settling into the crevices of his ears where it was absorbed and dissolved. A great weariness settled on Anakin. The pull of his soul swept him in two different directions, and he was no longer at all certain to whom he should listen. Obi-Wan's words competed for space with Palpatine's comforts. The two men were the two separate halves of the father that Anakin had never had. Those two halves were as different as two men could be, and even when they met for the good of the Republic, a mutual disagreement seemed to hang in the air between them. On the one hand, Obi-Wan obviously disapproved of Anakin's attachment to the politician and regretted that he had been the one to allow the tie to form between the Chancellor and his charge. On the other hand, the Chancellor openly disagreed with many of the Jedi philosophies. Anakin wanted to please them both, but felt that in doing so he could never fully please either. The fading warmth of his mother's brown eyes were his only comfort on the days he felt himself torn in two.

"Sir, do you have any children?" Anakin slowly asked Palpatine.

Surprise registered on the politician's face. "No, I do not."

"Did you ever want any?"

"I never had time for children of my own, Anakin. Like many Nubians, my political schooling began quite young. I was an intern for three years in Theed palace as a young man, until I departed to attend university. I was engaged in my studies for almost a decade and when I obtained my last degree I entered full-time government service. Any children I may have had would been sorely neglected."

"But did you ever _want_ any?" Anakin repeated singlemindedly.

Palpatine hesitated again, and when he finally answered the words came quite slowly. "When I was younger, I knew a boy. He was not mine, but an orphan to whom I gave advice and with whom I shared many of the things I knew. I grew quite close with him. We understood each other."

Anakin tensed, feeling very resentful upon hearing the answer he had so recklessly demanded. "What happened to him?" he asked, for the past tense that Palpatine used had not escaped him.

"He died," the Chancellor said, his voice clipped.

"Oh," Anakin said, not fully succeeding in inbuning the flat syllable with any kind of real sympathy. The Chancellor's description sounded terribly close to the understanding they shared, and Anakin hated to think of Palpatine mentoring any other boy that way. It seemed there was nothing left in his life that was solely his own. He didn't mind that he had a special, prophesied destiny, because he had always somehow known that he was different from other people, but he wished intensely that the Temple wasn't full of judging eyes that excluded him from what passed for normal life there, and still demnded that he achieve some sort of Balance that none of them were capable of achieving for themselves. It had taken a long time before he had resigned himself to not having any real friends among the other Padawans. They had always been hesistant to approach Anakin and had rejected his offers of friendship, wary as they were of his status and driven off by his intense emotional capacity, which they could never understand. After Qui-Gon, Palpatine was the first one who had taken an interest in him without first judging or disliking him.

Palpatine grimaced, the lines of his face drawing painfully tight. "Perhaps I shall tell you a story of duty, and what it means to do things that bring us pain, because they must be done."

Anakin shrugged without much interest. He didn't want to hear anything about his duty right now, thanks just the same. He got enough of that from Obi-Wan.

If Palpatine saw his reluctance, he blithly disregarded it. "Do you recall the history of the first Queen of Naboo?"

Anakin nodded listlessly. "Sure."

Palpatine nodded with satisfaction. "She ruled for five years over the united continents before selecting a husband from among her knights. This knight was the strongest, fiercest and most intelligent of her followers-- a great general in her armies. It came as no surprise when they wed. Festivals were held, and celebration reigned for fifty days before and after their joining. The people were overjoyed, and forgot their troubles. When at last they were joined, the Queen and her Lord toured the provinces again, visiting the small villages and common peoples and giving great gifts to them all. In one such village, the Queen gave the gift of a rope of blue jewels to an old sooth-sayer woman who was strongly gifted in the Force. In return, the old woman laid her hands on the Queen's belly and proclaimed that her first child would be strong beyond all other mortals, a gifted and powerful heir to the throne. The Queen was overjoyed, and thanked the old woman for her blessing. Sure enough, it soon became apparent that the Queen was with child. With the birth of the Queen's son, Naboo celebrated more mightily than ever before, from the richest noble to the poorest peasant. The Queen and her Lord Husband, however, did not."

"Why not?" Anakin asked. He was unwittingly interested in the story.

Palpatine smiled enigmatically. "The Queen was a brown haired, green-eyed woman, and her lord blond and brown eyed. When the child emerged from the womb, it resembled neither of them. With hair as black as night and eyes as blue as the evening skies, it seemed a changling child. Extrordinarily gifted with the Force, the boy was said to have levitated above his mother's body after the birthing. The parents were disturbed and had the boy tested by their scientists. Those tests revealed something so strange and powerful that it shocked the scientists. The child appeared to be composed of midichlorians, and thus born of the Force itself."

Anakin narrowed his eyes and wondered if this story was real or if the Chancellor was just making it up. It hit a little too close to home. Again he felt the uncomfortable, heated sensation of stiffling envy at the thought of not being as unique as he should be. _If _the story were true.

"Remembering the old woman who had prophesied a strong heir, the royal pair returned to that village and demanded to know the truth of the child's birth. The old woman laughed and proclaimed that she had given them the greatest possible gift—a child born of the Force, a child created when she had lain her hands on the Queen's belly. She held out her hand to the Queen once more, asking if she wished for a second child. The ruler back away and cursed the old woman for her interference, threatening to turn her over to the Jedi, who disliked any use of the Force that was not their own. The old woman smiled and told them that the child would be the Queen's greatest servant, and the greatest servant of the people. Then she faded into the shadows and disappeared. They never saw her again."

"She probably used a mind trick on them," Anakin suggested.

"Possibly, but the Queen and her Lord were not weak minded. Perhaps it is an ancient technique she used, now since lost and unknown. Whatever the case, they returned to Theed with the decision to raise the changling child as their own son. They called him Yulandu and the boy grew up tall, strong, beautiful and extrordinarily clever. Even as a small child, he advised his mother in affairs of state and his father in matters of war and peacekeeping, but contrary to loving him for it, they resented and feared him. The Queen viewed him as an enemy in her own home, and kept him to close to her side that he might never have the opportunity to act against her. When Yulandu was of age, and well trained, she demanded that he join the ranks of her knights and swear an oath of binding fealty to her. Despite the suspicion that hung on him day and night, the boy still loved his mother, and obeyed her order with joy. The day that he first donned the shining armour of her champions was said to have been the happiest day of his life. It was a situation which was soon to change, because the Queen was not content to treat her son as any other knight. She sent him on the filithiest missions, the most underhanded of tasks. Assassination and intimidation became his speciality, and his heart blackened with despair and twisted with bitterness. Still, he continued, for his oath was binding and it was an an honour to serve his queen."

Palpatine paused, observing Anakin closely for any sign of a reaction. The boy lifted mesmerised eyes to meet his, but said nothing. The Chancellor smiled knowingly and continued his story.

"In time, the Queen attempted to conceive other children, without success. Testing revealed her to be barren. In fact, her medics told her that conceiving her first child should have been an impossibility. She cursed them as fools and attempted again to get with child, naturally without success. In her rage, she sent her only son on missions designed to break him. They did not. From every mission, Yulandu returned stronger for the resolve that carried him through the filth of the underworld. He appeared kingly and majestic, while she shrivled with bitterness.

At last, she ordered that he find the men who had slaughtered her family all those many years ago, certain that it was a hopeless mission that he would never return from. He departed with resolve, disappearing over the capital's horizon and indeed vanishing from the Queen's life. Years passed by, and in time the Queen forgot her son, convinced that he had been killed."

"He wasn't, though," Anakin said knowingly.

Palpatine smiled conspiratorily. "Five years after his departure, a man entered the palace in rags, a cloak covering his head and a stringy bead growing out from under it. He indicated that he had tribute for the Queen. Expecting the fruits of the man's trade or harvest, she was shocked when he returned with six bandits clasped in binders. Their faces were much changed, but one glimpse of them returned the Uglorio to her long ago childhood.

The man in the cloak cast off his disguise and revealed himself to be Yulandu. _"I have fulfilled your order, mother! The men you sought stand here before you."_

The Queen was shocked and overcome with amazement, but recovered quickly. She ordered the men to be imprisoned and then quickly devised another task for her son, ordering him to discover if the bandits had families of their own, and to bring those families to Theed. The Prince departed again, and returned in two months with the wives, sons, daughters, mothers and fathers of the condemned men. Then, before the prisoners, she ordered her son to kill the families."

Anakin shook his head in denial. "Did he do it?!"

"Of course he did, young Skywalker. It was his duty. With the black blade of his sword, he took the lives of every last man, woman and child there, leaving only the bandits alive. When it was done, the Queen proclaimed justice to be served, and ordered the prisoners to live long, long lives with the pain of their loss—as she had. So you see, Anakin, our duty must often conflict with our desires, as it did for the Prince. His satisfaction came from the knowledge that he always fulfilled his duties, and never lost the honour of his word."

"The Queen didn't deserve him," Anakin spat.

"Often, the ones we serve do not deserve us. That is the reality."

"Then why should we?" The boy's voice was hot with a fury that was too personal a reaction to a simple story.

Palpatine smiled. "Perhaps we should not."

"But you just said—"

"For the greater good of the people, he performed the services that no one else was willing to. It is not always the glorious deeds that bring victory."

"I guess."

The Chancellor smiled and patted Anakin on the shoulder. "Let's go make ourselves a couple of purple bliels, shall we?"

**

In time, Anakin's noncommital view of the story changed. The words became vague and indetermine but would not let him go. When his blade took another life and then another, when the missions with Obi-Wan became more demanding and the praise for his bravery and determination never came from the people he was helping, the tale of that man's futile obediance returned to him. Every time that he commited another filthy deed for the Republic and the Jedi Council that so recklessly used him, every time he coldly interrogated another prisoner for the greater good, and every time he sliced out another piece of his own heart and killed another portion of his own soul, the memory of that story haunted him. Was it enough to do his duty when he felt that it might kill him to slay another living being? Or was it the day that he stood over the body of his victim and felt no pain that he should fear?

The years passed, and he married the woman he had longed for since early childhood. Only in _Padme's_ brown eyes could her forgot the agony of seeing his mother's brown eyes slide shut for the last time. The Clones Wars separated him from Padme often, though, swept him away to fields of destruction where the only dead were their own loyal citizens, slain by souless droids from whose destruction Anakin derived no satisfaction. Blaster fire and deadly ships replaced the sounds of laughter on those fields, and life withered before his eyes. He felt three times his age, and for a time forgot how to smile.

It was only the day that he reconciled himself to the difference between Obi-Wan and Palpatine, the two fathers he had never had, that he remembered how.

**

As Anakin had grown, Obi-Wan had changed and grown with him, while it seemed that Palpatine's distant but constant presence remained just as it had always been. The smile on his former master's face was that of an equal, and the first time that Obi-Wan called him "brother," Anakin knew it was right, while the touch of Palpatine's hand on his shoulder carried all the weight of the only man to whom he could bare his. That Palpatine lead the Republic gave Anakin reason enough to defend an institution he did not truly believe in. It was for that reason alone that, against all conscience, he obeyed the order to remove Count Dooku's head.

It brought him glory in the eyes of the people, but no honour. He no longer knew what principles were, only that he was losing his grasp on them a little bit more with every passing day. When Palpatine at last revealed himself to be the Dark Lord, Anakin felt his heart break and his trust shatter. The oath to the Sith he swore on his knees he already resolved to break, to take for himself the power that Palpatine had acquired. He attempted to rationalise to himself why he would do it, that it would protect his wife and child, that it would free the people from the leader who had lied for fourteen unbroken years, but in the end he was forced to admit that he would do it because it was what _he _wanted to do for himself.

Damn honour and oaths. What were they but excuses, childish ideas that kept hapless servants in check? If breaking his oaths to the Jedi had been so easily done, then breaking his oaths to the Sith would be doubly simple. He would allow himself to be bound no more, but take instead _everything _he desired, even if it mant destroying the ones he had once so dearly loved. He could contemtuously look into Obi-Wan's eyes, see the agony in them, and not care, coolly take in Palpatine's deformed features and already picture them slack and rotting, or masterfully observe Padme's shock while she gasped for the air that he refused to allow her. He could betray them all at will and not care, for they had all betrayed him _first._

A fire burned within Anakin, scorching away the fairy-tale ideals of his childhood and leaving behind a pure flame of such greed and selfishness that it rivaled the wild lava rivers of Mustaphar itself in intensity. His eyes stole the reflections of those rivers, and even when he at last lay burning on their shores it was not bravery or conscience that kept him alive, but the refusal to die and give Obi-Wan the satisfaction. From now on, Anakin Skywalker lived, and died, only for himself.

**

Standing over Darth Vader's unconscious, newly armoured form in the darkness of the medical lab, Emperor Palpatine reflected on the part of the story he had never revealed to Anakin. He told it simply, assured that his new apprentice could heard nothing, and would never know the truth.

"The first Queen of Naboo was no kindly and charitable soul as Amidala was, Lord Vader. Her rule became cruel and degenerate, corrupted by the pains of her childhood. She had never known true happiness you see, and therefore could not propogate it. Her son was not blind to her evils. When the loss of her honour became the loss of the oath she had sworn to her knights, he confronted her on the throneroom floor. She proclaimed her rule to be a just one, and demanded that her loyal knights arrest her son. They refused to, instead standing behind the rebellious prince. In her shock, the Queen was an easy target, and the prince attacked her. He did not kill her as she expected, but instead symbollically sliced open his mother's lips, proclaiming that he must destroy the mouth from which destructive lies had emerged. The skin of her lips healed badly, leaving a tremendous scar.

Her own knights arrested Uglorio, and put her in the cell she had intended for her son. Her Lord Husband was the last one to leave the dungeon. He caught her gaze, and when he was certain of her attention, drew his black blade, the blade on which he had sworn his loyalty to her, and broke it over his knee. 'I owe you nothing,' he said. 'You are no longer my wife, and no longer my queen.' Before he left, he threw the pieces into Uglorio's cell. It was a temptation to suicide, but she refused it, certain that she would escape and reclaim her throne. She never did.

Her son took the throne, confident that he would make a better leader. If this were a true fairy tale, he would indeed have been just and fair to all, but history is so much crueler than fairy tales, do you not agree, my apprentice? That neglected prince had never known happiness either, you see, and did not understand how to bring it to his subjects. The cruel tasks he had performed for his mother over many years had hardened his soul, and he became a ruthless, demanding king. Eventually a young, idealistic girl who had never known true hardship usurped the king. The girl, whose name was Jupee, threw Yulandu into the same cell that his mother had died in, and the people rejoiced. Jupee was the first Queen of Naboo to paint the Scar of Remembrance on her lips. That symbol is painted in memory of the Queen Uglorio's magnificent scar, the symbol of her lies and corruption, and the corruption of her son, that the young queen might every day glimpse in the mirror their cost.

You may wonder, my apprentice, why this story is so clear in my memory? It was clear in the memory of my master as well. The ancient Mon Calamari could not know how wrong they were when they proclaimed the nature of the universe to be linear rather than circular. Darth Plagueis recognised a kindred spirit in the mischief of the old woman who gave the Queen her unwanted gift. He experimented many years with creating life through the means of the Force. His first successes were pitiful, screaming, tormented creatures with no true form. They begged with their unformed thoughts for death, but he did not grant it to them, proud as he was of even that accomplishment. In time, his powers grew, and he was able to save others from death, as I told you. Their destinies were forever after tainted with the Dark Side, plagued by pain and cruel fortunes. If asked, they would tell you that they would rather be dead. In time, many took their own lives. At last, filled with the fruitful powers of such inflicted agonies, my master discovered the key to the old woman's secret, the creation of supernatural life in the living body of a woman. He taught me the secret, but never created such a child himself, because I killed him first.

I waited for many years before I tried it, until the Force indicated the time was right. It brought me to a pitiful world in the Outer Rim and a brown -eyed slave woman whose memory I erased after igniting the power of the Force inside of her body. I…had intended to take her with me, but my intuition warned me that leaving her would better serve my ambitions. With some reservations, I abandoned her to her fate. Almost ten years later, my faith in the Force was validated when I first saw you.

I had an apprentice already, but _you _were the catalyst, the one to serve my ambitions and goals, precisely as that first child of the Force did for his queen thousands of years ago.

What if you should one day displace me as Yolandu did Uglorio, you ask? Oh, Lord Vader, that is the Sith Way. I am not only expecting you to do so, I am _depending _on it. But it will not for honour, which neither of us has to give. In the end, greed always triumphs."

The rythmic sound of Vader's breathing filled the room. Soon, the newest Sith Lord would awaken. Palpatine gazed at the dark armoured form: the very image of those ancient knights of Naboo. He thought of how this boy would serve him, and how he already had. The Emperor's hand rose and softly touched the monstrous face of what he had created, while the memory of the bright eyed child he had first seen thirteen years ago rose up before him. He wondered that his heart presumed to ache.

_If he is not a loyal son, he is at least a very useful one…_

Palpatine smiled. "Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

The armoured Dark Lord at last stirred to wakefullness, opening hidden, rapacious eyes.

For the glory of the Sith, if not the honour.

THE END.


End file.
